Asking them to participate in NNN! (nsfw)
incl: 7 demon brothers + barbatos & solomon
a/n: since November is basically over by the time I finally made this, who are we thinking definitely lost the challenge? cause I have ZERO faith in any of them.. .mammon def lost on day 1
"I love you so much my dear... this is my last goodbye—"
"quit being dramatic it's just a flu"
simple cough and cold, with a little fever that would subside after a few days of bitter medicine and rest. this man right here acts as if he is dying. so dramatic that even shakespeare would fail.
you plop the cold towel on his forehead after wringing it, a thermometer loosely dangling from his mouth, either from tiredness or to emphasize his condition...or maybe both.
he blinks at you with dazed eyes, glossed over from fever. "it really hurts everywhere..." he says with a raspy and hoarse voice, coughing after. you sigh "I know, honey but this is the best for flu okay? here take your medicine" "ugh"
it was a cup of greenish liquid with origins you both knew and trusted. but still, the strong and bitter taste cringed the soul out of him "I can't believe they make us patients take these blegh.."
you let out a chuckle at his childlike antics. he may be composed or stoic in broad daylight, but when it's just you two or when he's sick, he IS going to act like so and hope you pamper him. afterall, even men deserve some princess treatment.
"lay down now, I'll heat up the porridge" yoh pressed a kiss to his forehead, stray strands of hair sticking from the sweat due to fever. "you shouldn't kiss me like that..." he gazed at you with bleary eyes "you'll get sick and catch my cold dear..."
with a final kiss to his cheek, "then you won't be alone"
The brothers experience fear of missing out for the first time
Masterlist
Every time you have to spend time in the human world, the demon brothers suffer. Not only do they have a very limited amount of time to talk to you through the day, but they have to come to terms with the fact that they won't know everything that happens in your life.
And Solomon loves to take advantage of that. He doesn't get to spend much time with you when you're in the devildom, after all!
So, when you return back to Hell, he rubs it in their face.
One instance, for example, was when you were telling Asmo and Mammon about a concert you went to.
"Oh! I saw your Instagram post about that!" He would say, knowing that would make them jealous. Why does he get to see your posts but they don't? It's unfair!
Or that other time when you were telling Satan about a trend going around the human world regarding cats.
"You sent me plenty of those Tiktoks! I must say, they were so cute!" And you could feel Satan's glare, even if it wasn't directed at you.
He even managed to piss off Beel, mentioning new restaurants you guys went to together!
But the most surprising of all, was Lucifer. He was the turning point.
How dare you not tell Lucifer that the Orchestra he loves went to your country? How dare you not send him a video? How dare you invite that shady sorcerer along and not Lucifer?
It wasn't your fault technically, Solomon had bought the tickets!
And so, they all joined forces to make a formal request to Diavolo. They wanted access to human world apps through the D.D.D.
And surely enough, a few weeks later, all of them began following your social media.
A/n: headers credit to @uzmacchiato.
Yet another post about Solomon pissing the brothers off, I hope you guys like it!
content -- Aphrodisiacs, afab!reader, unprotected sex, implied that Lucifer is the only one affected, pet names (sweetheart, love, etc.), brief cockwarming
♥︎ —lucifer
Lucifer was going to kill Leviathan later, and furthermore, he was going to suspend his younger brother’s access to Akuzan. He’d never understand Levi’s fascination with buying utterly ridiculous and or useless things for it was such a waste of money. After all, it was Levi’s odd spending habits that had the eldest brother in his current unfortunate predicament.
“Seven hells—“ Lucifer swears under his breath.
He buries his face into your shoulder, heaving heavily. Though he tried his best to fight it and remain composed, ever the prideful demon, the effects of the Gold Hellfire Newt Syrup were just far too powerful. Desire made his body burn. His head was starting to feel foggy and with all the blood rushing south, he felt dizzy.
“Y/n—“ your name on his tongue sounds like a silent plea.
“Lucifer, let me help you,” you say as you climb into his lap. You let your hips rock against his, feeling the thick bulge of his erection press against your cunt, eliciting a low moan from the demon. His body works against him, grinding up against you on its own accord, the friction doing little to soothe the ache he felt for you. You trace your hand down his chest, slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt when he stops you.
“The only way to quell the syrup’s effects… is by completing…” Lucifer groans, letting out a shaky breath before continuing, “an order given by the one the demon has a pact with.”
“Then Lucifer—“ you pull the demon close by his necktie. You note the way his eyes flicker downward toward your lips before back at your eyes. He swallows thickly, face growing more and more red. “Fuck me until you get it out of your system. That's an order.”
And comply to the order he does.
Under the effects of the aphrodisiac, every thing feels different.
An intensity that prickles every nerve in his body making him that much more sensitive when he finally slides his leaky cock through your gummy walls. Everything about you was intoxicating, from how your cunt dripped with your own arousal to your needy moans that further stirred up the desire pooling within his core.
"Lucifer!" You whimper. Feeling the swell of his cock fill you to the brim had your toes curling. It's as if the aphrodisiac made him suddenly bigger, so deep you were on the verge of seeing stars.
"This--ugh, fuck," Lucifer swears. His hips snap against yours, setting an unforgiving pace that makes the bed creak in response. And for once, his carefully maintained composure begins to break down. "Fuck, feels so good," the demon groans. Your walls flutter around him, making him hiss through his teeth. His body falters, cock throbbing. "Shit--hah--Scratch that you feel absolutely divine, and I'm going to ravish every inch of you."
♥︎ —satan
It was an accident. Satan truly didn't mean for you to get wrapped up in this mess. It was only a slight error in the incantation, but it had been drastic enough that it turned a simple charm into a full scale aphrodisiac, which lead to your current predicament.
“Fuck—hah—sorry sweetheart,” Satan pants, groaning at the way you clench around him while seated in his lap. “Didn’t mean for this to happen." His hands roam your body, gripping your hips as he tried to ground himself. You tremble at his touch, gasps leaving your lips.
"I-it's okay," you stammer. "It was an accident."
It was almost painful how hard he got so quickly from the spell. Lust clouded his mind in an instant, and his clothes became so restrictive that he couldn't think of anything besides taking them off and feeling your sweet pussy. There was no fighting it, as the more he tried to suppress his desires, the stronger it burned through his body until he was sure he would cum his pants from the thought of you alone.
The spell however seemed to have as equal as an effect on you, and it boasted the prideful demon's ego to find you wet and aching for him when he took your panties off.
"L-let me read the book to see if there's a way to dispel--" He chokes on his words as a wave of pleasure races through his veins. His hips jerk up. Fuck, how he wanted to move. He thought cockwarming would just be enough, but so far it hadn't sedated any his need for you. If anything, being nestled within your gooey walls made the heat in his stomach burn more.
"Satan, please," you babble. Satan stands from his chair, sloppily pressing his lips against yours in a needy kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist in attempts to force his cock deeper, making Satan groan at the erotic squelch as your pussy clings to him. "S'not enough. Need more of you."
"You need more?" The demon chuckles.
His nails dig into your thighs, your bodies pressed flush against each other as Satan has you held against the book shelf in his room, dragging his cock in and out of your wet cunt teasingly slow. The sweltering heat soaked through your bones, making every nerve in your body stand on edge and your sensitive nipples pebble into stiff peaks which Satan playfully toys with until you're shivering from desire.
"Well," Satan muses, "likely, the only way to mitigate the spell's effects is for it to run through our systems. So, please indulge me for a bit, love."
♥︎ —solomon
“I-it appears the potion was more potent than I thought,” Solomon chuckles breathlessly. Red flushed his cheeks. His body already began feeling the potion’s effects, sending heat coursing through him. “H-how are you feeling love?”
“O-okay…” you stammer. Electricity spread through your entire nervous system pooling all in the middle of your legs, making you grow antsy and needy. The beat of your heart continued to quicken, leaving you breathless as desire lidded your eyes with lust. "It feels strange."
The two of you had decided to take an aphrodisiac together, just for the fun of changing things up. Solomon found a potion recipe in one of his old spell books, but the concoction turned out to be rather strong. Its effects were almost instant.
"Don't be nervous," Solomon reassures. He carefully lays you down into the plush pillows of your shared bed, laying down next to you. "I've got you."
His rough palms skim up your waist, gently squeezing your skin in what meant to be comforting, but only sent prickles through your sensitive body. Wrapping his arms around your midsection, Solomon pulls you into his chest allowing him ample access to your naked folds.
"Solomon~" you moan, keening against his touch. Solomon groans as you press against his stiff cock, it leaking beads of precum. He trails kisses down the side of your neck, sucking and abusing your collarbone while his fingers tease the folds of your cunt, collecting your wetness on them. He spreads your legs wider to allow two digits to prod your entrance.
"You feel so soft," Solomon mumbles. He pressed his fingers deeper, curling them slightly until they touch where you’re most sensitive. You gasp, back arching as a low string of whines leaves your lips. His thumb finds your clit, tracing the nerves with slow, tantalizing movements that have you seeing stars.
"Solomon, please," you whine. "I need you so badly." Solomon grins, smiling against your shoulder as you grind back against his cock.
"I-like seeing you needy like this," he chuckles. Lifting up one of your legs, he eases his cock into your cunt, groaning as he slips through with ease. The feeling of your tight hole finally clamping around him made Solomon want to cum again on the spot. Did you always feel this good or was it just the aphrodisiac making his cock feel more sensitive?
You whimper as Solomon pulls your leg back further. His hips thrust upward, fucking into you deeper. "Don't stop now," the sorcerer teases. "Keep begging. I want to hear how much you need my cock."
pairings: the brothers/Reader, Diavolo/Reader, Solomon/Reader (can be interpreted as platonic or romantic)
summary: You’re sorting through paperwork with Lucifer when you accidentally slide your fingertip against the corner of a page. “Ow,” you say instinctually, more out of reflex than genuine pain.
“Are you alright?” Lucifer asks, looking up from his papers for the first time since you started this task.
“Oh, yeah,” you wave his concern off. “Just got a paper cut.”
“A paper cut,” Lucifer repeats with bemusement and skepticism. “You got hurt by a piece of paper,” he says incredulously.
The demon brothers learn a valuable lesson as they grow to include you in their lives: humans are very strange.
word count: 3.3k | ao3 version
warnings: mentions of sickness, medical care, injury.
I know demons are virtually the same as humans canonically, but I’ve always wanted to explore the brothers’ reactions to human things MC does, whether it’s a sneeze or a bruise or getting sick… And, well, here we are.
This won’t be canon compliant. This is set to take place sometime after Episode 15 and all seven brothers are included. The reader’s race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used**. There’s one bit where they’re stated to wear glasses & another where they had braces and currently wear retainers. But I feel like that’s a pretty easy thing to imagine, so… yeah!
**The reader is referred to with it/its pronouns once in Belphegor's snippet—skip reading it if it bothers you. i use these pronouns so i wrote that mostly for me 🤘
“Darling, what is that ghastly thing?” Asmodeus asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.
“What thing?” you frown. The two of you are sitting in his bedroom, sprawled across his bed as you talk about stupid things. Asmodeus had been ranting about something when his eyes locked on something near you with startling focus.
“This!” he says, pointing at your forearm.
You follow his gaze, finding a spot of slightly discolored skin halfway down your arm. “Oh,” you say, “It’s just a bruise.”
“A bruise?” Asmodeus repeats, his nose scrunched in confusion.
“You know, a bruise,” you repeat. There’s nothing close to comprehension on his face. “...A contusion or whatever?” …Still nothing.
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” the demon frowns. “And wow, is it unsightly.” Asmodeus remarks, disgust passing over his face before intrigue takes over it. He leans over you, before proceeding to poke at your skin curiously.
“Ow, Asmo—” you hiss, batting his hand away. You don’t put much strength behind the gesture, but Asmodeus goes along with it anyway and removes his hand.
“It hurts?” he then blinks owlishly.
“Yes,” you say, letting your arm fall back to your side.
Asmodeus shakes his head in disbelief. “Humans are so weird.”
It’s late at night and you need to refill your glass of water. You’re tiredly walking out to the kitchen when a sudden noise breaks through the silence.
“Hey.”
You inhale sharply, fear coursing through you until you recognize the familiar voice. “Holy shit, Beel,” you murmur, placing your hand on your chest momentarily and squinting through the darkness. You can only see the general outline of his form. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” Beelzebub says. You think he must be frowning now. Again, it’s difficult to tell. “I thought you saw me.”
“Um…” you squint again. “No.”
“Oops,” he says. You hear a light shuffling sound. “Can you see me now?” he asks.
You blink again. “Sort of.”
Suddenly he’s standing right in front of you. You can’t suppress a flinch this time, instinctually leaning backwards.
“Beel, stop that—!” you exclaim, nearly stumbling over yourself.
He sets you straight with a hand on your shoulder, a frown rising on his face. “You can’t see in the dark, then?” Beelzebub hums.
“No,” you sigh. It’s as if he didn’t believe you—like he had to test it for himself to make sure.
“Hmph,” Beelzebub frowns again. Or, at least, it sounds like he’s frowning. “That’s inconvenient.”
“I guess,” you concede.
“What’s wrong with your skin?” Belphegor asks you one morning, when the two of you are relaxing in his room.
“Hm?” you blink, momentarily distracted from looking down at your D.D.D.
“Your skin,” he restates. “Look,” he demands, pointing down at your forearm. You follow the demon’s gaze, only to find goosebumps scattered across your skin.
“Oh, those are just goosebumps,” you answer casually.
“Goose… bumps,” Belphegor repeats, his nose scrunched in evident revulsion.
“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m not sure why they’re called that, but they show up on your skin if you get too cold.”
“Well, stop being cold,” Belphegor orders, as if you’re inconveniencing him. He probably thinks you are, although it’s entirely out of your control. You hardly have a chance to react before you’re promptly pelted in the face with a sweatshirt. “Here.”
“Oof,” you say, peeling it off the crown of your head and putting it on. “Thanks, Belphie.”
“Shut up,” he murmurs. There’s a hint of pink rising on the back of his neck, as if he’s embarrassed. “Stupid human. Can’t even keep itself warm.” He huffs. You valiantly ignore the remark.
“Why are there teeth in the bathroom?” Levi asks as he enters the room. And wow, what a way to make an entrance. Satan and you look over at Levi from where you’d been reading.
“What?” Satan blinks questioningly, clearly just as confused as you are.
“Teeth,” Levi repeats himself, “in the bathroom.”
How he expects the same exact remark to make more sense, you have no idea. It takes you a few moments to connect the dots, but you do eventually. “Oh!” you exclaim. “Those are just my retainers.”
“Your retainers,” Satan repeats. There’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “And what do they retain, exactly?” he asks sardonically. You scoff.
“My teeth,” you respond. “Obviously,” you add, if only to combat his sarcasm.
“So… what do you do with them?” Levi asks curiously, tilting his head as he looks at you.
“I wear them every night when I sleep,” you explain. “They’re supposed to prevent my teeth from shifting.”
“Your teeth shift?” Satan exclaims incredulously. “You mean they can move?”
“Um— yes,” you respond. “Human teeth always move, even after a person has braces.”
“What are braces?” Levi demands.
“They’re metal brackets that an orthodontist puts on your teeth when they’re crooked. They guide the teeth into a more neat shape.”
“I’m convinced you just made that up,” Satan says helpfully.
You roll your eyes. “I had braces. But since my teeth can still move, I have to wear the retainers.”
“For how long?” Levi blinks.
“The rest of my life.”
Satan whistles. “That sucks.”
You shrug amicably.
“And I thought normies were weird,” Levi huffs. “But humans are even weirder.”
“Hey, wait: how’d you even see my retainers in the first place?” you realize aloud. “I always keep them in a case… in a drawer.” You wouldn’t just leave them on the counter—that would be pretty unsanitary.
As if caught in a lie, Levi freezes and quickly bolts away. “Gotta go shower, bye—!” he says, slamming the bathroom door shut with more force than necessary.
You stare after him in disbelief, an incredulous laugh bubbling up from your throat.
“He was just curious,” Satan explains with a shrug. “Not that I blame him. Do your teeth truly keep growing?”
“Not growing, necessarily,” you contemplate. “Babies are born with baby teeth. Then, as you get older, you lose your baby teeth as your adult teeth grow in.”
“That’s similar to demons,” Satan confirms.
“Our teeth eventually stop growing, but they can shift and move still,” you clarify.
Satan shakes his head in annoyed disbelief. “Humans are truly an anomaly.”
You’re sorting through paperwork with Lucifer when you accidentally slide your fingertip against the corner of a page. “Ow,” you say instinctually, more out of reflex than genuine pain.
“Are you alright?” Lucifer asks, looking up from his papers for the first time since you started this task.
“Oh, yeah,” you wave his concern off. “Just got a paper cut.” You squint down at your finger and grit your teeth in annoyance. You’re so concentrated that you don’t know Lucifer’s pensive silence or furrowed brows.
“A….. paper cut,” he restates, a mix of bemusement and concern in his voice.
“You don’t get those?” you ask.
“You got hurt by a piece of paper,” Lucifer says incredulously. Suddenly he’s getting to his feet and striding over to you, taking your hand in his and investigating your fingertip. “Hm. You weren’t joking. How strange.”
He continues to study your skin with a frightening intensity. Your hand is almost shaking in his grip, as you attempt to fight off your restlessness at his proximity. Eventually Lucifer sighs and lets his grip fall away. “Does it hurt?”
“Yeah,” you admit. “Paper cuts are just a minor inconvenience… But for whatever reason, they can really hurt sometimes. Feels like your skin is splitting apart.” They really shouldn’t hurt, but they do. One time, you had one that spanned your entire fingertip. This one doesn’t look nearly as bad, fortunately. But it still burns.
“You’re rather breakable,” the Avatar of Pride notes.
“It’s just a paper cut,” you feel the need to say defensively.
“Of course,” Lucifer responds, an indulgent and amused smile on his face. There’s a knowing smirk on his face and you roll your eyes, abandoning the argument.
Solomon and you often get stuck accompanying one another to the human realm whenever you need anything. The demon realm is great, but it doesn’t have everything humans need. Besides, sometimes it’s nice to breathe in some fresh air or be among other humans.
Today’s visit has a purpose, though. After a rather unfortunate incident involving Mammon, you, and a chandelier, you find yourself with broken glasses. (Thanks, Mammon.) It’s been roughly a year since you’ve had an eye exam, so it’s about time for another appointment anyways. Unfortunately, the Devildom doesn’t have eye doctors (and you still remember the perplexed look on Levi’s face when you casually asked him one day). That’s how you find yourself in your ophthalmologist’s office in the human realm. Solomon dropped you off with the promise that he’d return the moment you texted, leaving you to slowly waste away in the waiting room.
Fortunately, your name is finally called and you’re able to undergo all of the various examinations. You emerge an hour later with dilated pupils, an updated prescription, and reassurance from the doctor that nothing is amiss. You manage to text Solomon—through slightly blurred vision—and he arrives within five minutes.
You can only hope to slip into the manor unnoticed. But from the very moment you slip through the front doors, Mammon is bounding up to you like an overexcited puppy. He seems moments away from looping an arm around you and dragging you off into some misguided adventure when he locks eyes with you and freezes.
“Whoa, what the hell—?” Mammon exclaims, staring at you intently. “Oi, human, don’t tell me ya got possessed—!” His hands clamp on your shoulders and he starts shaking you roughly.
“Mammon, stop it,” you object, grabbing onto his shoulders and attempting to prevent him from shaking you any harder. He calms down a little, but he still looks confused. “I’m not possessed. I just had an appointment with an eye doctor.”
“Well, how’d they screw up so bad then, huh?” he spits. In another situation, his concern would be touching; but now, it’s mostly just amusing. “Ya look like a shark!”
“It’s just one of the tests,” you explain. “They had to dilate my pupils.”
“Humans are crazy,” Mammon asserts. He’s studying you from far too close—occasionally changing his angle as if it will somehow give him new insight. “You look so freaky.”
“Thanks, Mammon,” you sigh.
“Does it hurt?” he asks. “I bet it does; yer such a baby.” The insult seems to be a cover-up for his concern.
“It doesn’t really hurt,” you reassure him. “It just feels a little strange. The drops really just affect your vision. I can’t focus on things in front of me, and it sort of looks like I’m seeing double.”
“Well, there’s nothing for it but resting your eyes,” Mammon sighs theatrically, looping an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s watch the next episode of Destroyman.”
“How is that supposed to help my eyes?” you ask skeptically.
“Hey, I’ve been waiting for ya all day!” Mammon exclaims. “We’re watching the next episode, even if it looks all blurry to you.” The demon is soon yanking you along before you can object.
“There’s the culprit,” Belphegor remarks, looking up at you as you enter the dining room for breakfast. The brothers are staring at you intently.
“Good morning to you too,” you huff, shoving your hands in the pockets of your uniform and taking the empty seat at the table. It’s a bit unusual to see all seven brothers at the table like this, especially so early in the morning. “What’d I do?” you blink cluelessly.
“You don’t remember?” Beel pipes up, blinking at you curiously. He seems to be mid-bite, with some food hanging out of his mouth. Lucifer chides him for table manners and Beel huffs, promptly demolishing the rest of his food.
“You were roaming the halls in the middle of the night like a ghost!” Mammon explains before anyone else can. He sounds particularly energetic this morning. “It was freaky.”
Roaming the halls at night? You don’t remember doing that, which can only mean one thing. “Oh, I was probably just sleepwalking,” you realize aloud.
“Wonders truly never cease,” Lucifer says dryly. “Just how many eccentricities do humans possess?” he muses.
You sigh, remembering all of the strange interactions you’ve had over the past few weeks. “I’m not choosing to do any of this, you know,” you frown. “I can’t control it.” It’s not like you wanted to get a paper cut, or a bruise, or goosebumps. These are just facts of life.
“We know, dear,” Asmo reassures you.
“It’s okay,” Levi says, barely sparing you a glance as he stares down at his plate. “None of these human behaviors are super annoying.” That’s very meaningful coming from Levi of all demons.
“They’re just weird,” Satan supplies helpfully. You roll your eyes at him.
“It seems my brothers were just… worried,” Lucifer explains.
“Hey, you were worried too!” Mammon objects. “You were the one to—” Whatever the Avatar of Greed means to say next promptly fades into obscurity, as Lucifer sends his younger brother a murderous glare to silence him.
“Okay,” you eventually remark, uncomfortable with the sudden tension settling in the room. “Well, sorry to disturb you guys, I guess. Sleepwalking is normal for humans, though.”
“I’m starting to think nothing about humans is normal,” Satan mutters under his breath. Lucifer nods in agreement. You just roll your eyes and pretend not to hear the remark, serving yourself some food and beginning to eat breakfast. Despite the fanfare, it’s nice to know the brothers care about you—even if they don’t show it in very orthodox ways.
“Oh,” a familiar voice says one afternoon. You blink blearily, your dizzy vision momentarily clarifying to reveal Diavolo standing over you. You’re crumpled on the floor, your cheek pressed to the cold hardwood as sweat rolls down the nape of your neck. “I must say, when I heard of your absence, I assumed you ditched classes for the day.”
It’s difficult for you to process what he’s saying; his voice sounds warped. The headmaster just hums. “Are you… all right?” he asks. You can barely manage a weak nod. Diavolo sighs. “Forgive me for the foolish question. You’re clearly not all right. Here, let’s get you up…”
You hardly have the chance to object before the demon is lifting you into his arms as if you weigh nothing at all. He sets you on your bed with deceptive gentleness, before staring at you and frowning.
“I don’t suppose you know what’s happening to you,” Diavolo says.
“I think I’m sick,” you manage to respond. Your voice sounds a little raspy and your airways feel a bit tight. You clear your throat, wincing at the dryness the gesture provokes. You must have a fever, because your body temperature keeps oscillating between frigid cold and searing warmth. Before you can think better of it, you blink dazedly and reach out to grab Diavolo’s hand. “Tell me if I feel warm.”
He’s clearly a bit confused, but he allows you to guide his hand to your temple.
“You’re hot,” he observes after a moment.
“Thanks,” you huff deliriously.
“Your temperature,” he clarifies with a knowing smile, shaking his head. “What does this mean?” Diavolo frowns.
“I have a fever,” you answer. “When a human’s body temperature is too high, it causes sickness.”
“What can be done about it?” he continues.
“Depends,” you reply. “Sometimes it breaks on its own; sometimes you need antibiotics.”
“Antibiotics,” Diavolo repeats, the concept clearly foreign to him. “I can’t say I’m familiar. But it’s clear that you should rest. I’ll watch over you.” Whatever else he says is lost on you, as you close your eyes and surrender to the persistent fatigue burning your eyelids.
You wake several hours later to a room devoid of Diavolo. You’re not exactly surprised that he had to leave—he’s the ruler of the Devildom, after all. He surely has far more important things to do than look after you. You blink away traces of sleep as you look around the room, your vision clarifying to reveal Solomon sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room. You blink at him silently.
“Oh, you’re awake,” Solomon says. “How are you feeling?”
“…Fine,” you admit, touching your temple experimentally. Your headache has subsided a little, but your skin still feels a bit warm. At your movement, Solomon pushes himself to his feet and feels your forehead.
“Your temperature’s coming down, finally,” he hums.
“What are you doing here?” you finally manage to ask.
“Diavolo summoned me,” Solomon explains. “Supposedly, he attempted to enlist the help of the brothers, but they proved to be rather useless. They are… woefully uninformed when it comes to humans, after all.”
That’s true. “Thanks,” you remember to say. He didn’t have to come, after all. Just because he’s the only other human, doesn’t mean he’s relegated to nursing you back to health.
“No problem,” Solomon nods sincerely. He doesn’t seem too bothered by the whole arrangement. “It’s nice not to be the only human. Although, I expect around the clock service and care the next time I fall ill.”
You smile tiredly. “Of course,” you agree. It’s a frighteningly easy promise to make.
After your sickness, you notice that the brothers begin to ease up on you a bit. Mammon’s no longer texting you in the middle of the night, demanding that you entertain him; Lucifer doesn’t mind if you occasionally take a day to complete your work remotely at the mansion; Asmo’s physical affection is gentler than normal; Levi doesn’t tease you about being a normie as much; Beelzebub doesn’t ever touch your plate or food; hell, even Belphegor is behaving himself—no longer interfering with your naps or sleep.
One afternoon, Lucifer approaches you in the living room. He greets you before settling on the couch next to you, his posture rigid and proper. “You may have noticed that my brothers…” Lucifer starts, before pausing and shaking his head, “...that we have been acting a bit different than normal.” You nod.
“In the past few weeks—especially in light of your bout of sickness—we realized that we’ve been neglecting you and your health. A demon’s stamina is much stronger than a human’s—we need less sleep; food is more of a luxury than a necessity; our bodies are more resistant to injury… You understand.”
“What I mean to say is…” Lucifer trails off again, an uncharacteristic sign of hesitation from him. He takes a slow breath. “I apologize for the oversight.”
“It’s okay,” you reassure him.
“It is not,” Lucifer states firmly. “We have neglected to consider just how difficult this transition must be for you. We—I—didn’t think to ensure your health and safety were priorities.”
“But no more. I’ve spoken to Diavolo and Solomon at length, in addition to doing some elective research, to ensure we are not so unprepared in the future. And, should your accommodations be unsuitable—should anything here be unsuitable—I want you to inform me at once.”
That… sounds a lot more serious than what you were expecting. You blink. “That’s— That’s really not necessary,” you try to say.
“It wasn’t a request,” Lucifer interjects smoothly. It’s a firm but well-meaning statement. “Do you understand?”
You swallow. “Yes.”
“Good.” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips now. “Truthfully, my brothers were very worried for you.” Lucifer pauses for a moment. “I was very worried for you,” he admits.
You’re sure you look surprised now. Lucifer only laughs, before getting to his feet and placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You can almost convince yourself that the look in his eyes is unbearably fond. But he’s soon withdrawing, leaving you to wonder if you imagined the entire interaction.
I have a headcanons scenario the brothers and the side characters pinching MC's cheeks to see their reaction when they're staring off into space, asleep, or just studying and MC doesn't notice them.
── ⋆⋅☆ OBEY ME - CHEEK PINCHING
── ⋆⋅☆ AUTHORS NOTE - Went through A LOT of voice lines from the game to try and make these guys as in-character as possible. Realized I know nothing about Mephistopheles or Raphael, so I didn't write about them.
── ⋆⋅☆ LUCIFER
Lucifer notices immediately when you get distracted.
He pretends he doesn’t, of course. He keeps his arms crossed, keeps that perfect posture, but he’s watching you like a hawk the second your attention drifts.
You’ll be sitting in his office, supposedly helping with paperwork or discussing something important, and then… your focus just floats away? Hello?
Maybe it’s a shiny object, maybe it’s a silly thought, maybe it’s nothing at all.
Your eyes glaze a little, your head tilts, and you’re gone.
Lucifer takes one look at you and just… melts internally. :/
He will NEVER admit that.
But the fondness hits him so hard he has to look away for a second.
He calls your name once. Doesn’t work.
Calls it again, slightly sharper. Still nothing.
At this point, he’s smiling, not visibly, no, but the corners of his mouth are absolutely betraying him.
So he walks over, tilts his head a bit, and leans down.
Then he just pinches your cheek.
“There you are,” he says, sounding far too satisfied for someone who just manhandled your face.
You react, flustered or startled or pouty, and that only makes it worse.
He pinches again, softer this time, because apparently he has discovered his new favourite toy. Your easily distracted expression.
You ask why he did that, and he raises an eyebrow like it should be obvious.
“You weren’t listening.”
He means, 'You were adorable, and I needed you to look at me right now.'
── ⋆⋅☆ MAMMON
Mammon notices when you get distracted faster than he notices sale signs.
Which is saying something.
You’ll be talking to him. Or, well, he’ll be talking and bragging, and then suddenly your focus just… drifts.
Your eyes go off somewhere, you stop responding, and your brain has clearly unplugged itself from the room.
Mammon freezes. Not because he’s offended.
It's because your “I have no thoughts in my head right now” face is the cutest thing he’s ever seen, and he has to physically hold onto something to keep from combusting.
He tries calling your name.
His voice gets progressively louder and more desperate. “Yo! Human!! Helloooo?! Are ya even listenin’?! Hey!! Earth to... c’mon!!”
You don’t snap out of it, and Mammon is suffering.
So, naturally, he panics and goes for the most Mammon solution possible. He walks right up to you and pinches your cheek.
Not gentle. Not delicate. A full “I’m tryna reboot your brain like a malfunctioning vending machine” pinch.
You jolt back to reality like someone unplugged and replugged you.
Mammon immediately goes bright red. “W-WHAT?! Ya weren’t listenin’! I had to get ya back somehow!! Don’t give me that look!!” (⸝⸝•̀⸝⸝•́⸝⸝)
Meanwhile he’s staring at you with the dorkiest smile he’s desperately trying to hide, because your confused little face is killing him.
── ⋆⋅☆ LEVIATHAN
Levi tries so hard to pretend he doesn’t care that you’re not paying attention to him. Spoiler: he cares. A lot.
Inside? He is wilting like a neglected houseplant. (•́ ᴖ •̀)
You’re NOT looking at him, and he is fighting for his life.
Eventually, he scoots closer. Like… a pixel at a time.
He leans over your shoulder to see what has you so focused, and then it hits him: you look cute.
Like dangerously cute, Concentration-face cute.
He goes red IMMEDIATELY.
His brain: Error. Buff overflow. Abort. His body apparently decides to act on its own, though.
And he just— PINCHES YOUR CHEEK?!
Gently. Tentatively. Like he’s afraid you’ll crash if he clicks the wrong spot.
The SECOND he realizes what he just did, he jerks his hand back like you burned him.
“I—I wasn’t trying to get your attention or anything!! I just— I mean— You— AUGH—” (⸝⸝๑ ﹏ ๑⸝⸝⸝)
But now you’re looking at him. Mission accidentally successful.
Levi is internally punching the air because YES, he has your attention, but also NO because he cannot survive this level of eye contact.
Will spend the next 24 hours ranting to himself in his bathtub about how he “totally didn’t do that because you were cute” while replaying the moment.
── ⋆⋅☆ SATAN
Satan notices you getting distracted before you even realize it’s happening.
One second you’re talking to him, and the next you’re staring off at… a speck of dust?
Doesn’t matter, he thinks it’s adorable.
He watches you for a moment, trying to pretend he’s not completely endeared.
Like, he’ll even put a hand under his chin and act like he’s contemplating deep philosophy, but really he’s just thinking, “Why are they so cute when they’re spaced out?” (╭ರ_•́)
At first, he tries calling your name. Calmly. Softly. Very gentlemanly.
And that’s when he decides to escalate.
He leans forward with the smooth confidence of someone who thinks he’s immune to embarrassment (he isn’t).
Then he reaches out and pinches your cheek.
Not hard — just enough to get your attention.
The moment you snap out of it and look at him, he gives you this tiny, smug smile like he’s so proud of himself for 'bringing you back to reality.'”'
“You drifted off,” he says, like he didn’t just reach over and grab your face like you’re a cat he wants to squish.
He claims he only did it because you weren’t listening.
Lies.
── ⋆⋅☆ ASMODEUS
You're hanging out in his room again — lucky you!
Asmo’s sitting beside you on his bed, filing his nails and telling you all about a disastrous outfit someone wore earlier.
He’s very passionate about it, clearly.
But at some point, you stop responding.
You're staring off at… something. Absolutely entranced, and Asmo just blinks at you like “…hello?”
He leans in a little, “Darling?”
No reaction.
Then he makes the most offended-yet-delighted face, like >:O but sparkly.
And without warning, he reaches over and pinches your cheek gently.
“There you are! Oh my goodness, what has you so focused that you forget about me?”
You blink at him, startled and cute, and he actually gasps — dramatically of course — “Aww! That face! Do it again~!”
He scoots closer until he’s basically draped across your lap, batting his lashes. “I swear, when you zone out like that, it’s adorable enough to be illegal.”
And yes, he absolutely plays with your cheek again just because he can.
Later, he’ll flop onto his bed alone, kick his feet, and mumble to himself, “Their cheeks are so soft… I’m doing that again next time.”
── ⋆⋅☆ BEELZEBUB
You’re sitting with Beel in the living room, the two of you sharing snacks… well, you’re sharing snacks. Beel’s inhaling them like oxygen.
He’s talking about this new protein bar he found that “tastes kind of like mango but also like regret,” and you’re nodding along until.
Oh? There you go again.
Totally zoned out. Staring at absolutely nothing. Your snack halfway to your mouth like you froze mid-animation.
Beel notices immediately.
At first, he just tilts his head, all soft and confused, like a big, gentle puppy. “…Are you okay?”
No answer.
He leans in closer, brows furrowed with concern. Still nothing.
So he gently reaches out with those giant warm hands of his and pinches your cheek, so light it’s barely even a pinch.
“Hey,” he says with the softest little smile, “You spaced out.”
You blink up at him all dazed and cute, and his expression melts.
You can practically see the way his heart does a little flip.
“That look…” He looks away shyly and smiles to himself. “Um… it’s cute.”
He keeps his hand hovering near your cheek like he’s tempted to do it again, but he’s Beel, so he’s polite about it.
He only gives in when you lean into his hand, he’s like ( ˶o˶˶o˶) !! but also ( ,,◕ ̫ ◕,, )
He offers you the last piece of his snack as a peace offering. (He never gives the last piece. That’s true love.)
Later, he goes to grab another bag of chips and quietly mutters to himself, “I hope they get distracted again… I liked touching their cheek.”
── ⋆⋅☆ BELPHEGOR
You’re in the attic with Belphie... where else would you be?
He’s half-asleep on your shoulder, mumbling something about how the stars look fake tonight and how he “could totally sue” if they keep twinkling that loudly.
You’re listening… until you’re not.
At some point, you drift off into your own little world. It's too cozy not to.
Your eyes get all soft and unfocused, and you’re completely gone.
Belphie opens one eye, peeks at you, and instantly recognizes the look.
He stares for a moment, absolutely fascinated.
You’re quiet. Still. Peaceful. He loves it.
He sighs, dramatic but sleepy, shifts himself closer, and reaches up with one lazy hand to pinch your cheek.
It’s not even a proper pinch, more like a soft, sleepy squish.
“Hey…” he mutters, voice low and satisfied, “don’t go drifting off without me.”
You blink awake, startled and cute, and Belphie just smirks like he’s been waiting for that exact expression.
“There you are,” he murmurs, snuggling back against you like you didn’t just get sneak-attacked by a cheek pinch. “You make the cutest face when you zone out… It’s distracting.”
He says it so casually, like it’s just a fact of nature and not something that’s been making him kick his feet internally.
And when you swat at him?
He grabs your hand, pulls it to his chest, and goes right back to napping on you with the smuggest little smile.
── ⋆⋅☆ DIAVOLO
You’re visiting the castle, which is already a big deal because Diavolo acts like you hung the moon.
He’s giving you a tour, talking excitedly about some upcoming festival and how he wants you to be there.
And then he realizes… You’re not responding.
You’re standing there in the hallway, staring at a stained-glass window like it just told you a life-changing secret.
Diavolo pauses mid-sentence. Smiles.
Sets his hands on his hips like a dad about to lovingly scold a toddler.
“Hello…?”
Nothing.
He steps closer, peeks down at your face with this amused, soft expression like he’s watching a baby animal do something precious.
And then, with the gentlest touch for a man who could crush boulders, he pinches your cheek.
Not hard. Just a light little squeeze to bring you back to the mortal realm.
“There you are!” he laughs, bright and warm. “You drifted off for a moment.”
You blink up at him all surprised and cute and Diavolo’s whole face just softens like he’s experiencing love for the first time.
“That look…” he murmurs, cheeks warming just a little, “I should find ways to see it more often.”
── ⋆⋅☆ BARBATOS
You’re in the castle kitchen with Barbatos, which is already a privilege because he rarely lets anyone near his workspace.
He’s slicing fruit with flawless precision, telling you about a tea blend he’s perfecting.
You’re nodding along, taking in the scent, the warmth, the quiet…
And then your brain just ✨ leaves the building ✨
You stare off at… a teacup. Or maybe a blueberry. Whatever it is, it has absolutely consumed your entire focus.
Barbatos pauses mid-cut, glances over, and gives you this tiny, fond smile.
“Darling…?” he calls gently.
No response.
He sets down the knife, carefully, of course, and steps closer.
He tries again. Still nothing.
And then, without a hint of hesitation, he reaches out and pinches your cheek.
So soft. So quick. So precise. Like he’s done it a thousand times in his mind.
“There you are,” he murmurs with a quiet chuckle, eyes crinkling just a bit. “You seemed… rather absorbed.” (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
You blink up at him, startled and cute, and Barbatos looks away for a moment like he needs to reset his entire emotional system.
Then he brushes his thumb over the spot he pinched, barely there, and adds, “It is… charming, seeing you like that.”
── ⋆⋅☆ SIMEON
You’re sitting with Simeon in Purgatory Hall.
He’s writing in his notebook, telling you about a story idea he had while cooking breakfast this morning.
You’re listening… at first.
And then your attention drifts off to something completely random.
A dust particle floating by? A pretty patch of sunlight? Who knows? You’re just gone. :/
Simeon notices immediately, of course, he does.
He looks up from his notebook, his smile soft and impossibly gentle.
“Honey…?” he says, voice warm and lilting.
No response.
He tries again, leaning in a little. Still nothing.
So he lets out a tiny, affectionate laugh and reaches out to pinch your cheek, the gentlest pinch in the entire celestial realm.
“There you are,” he says, his smile melting into something fond enough to make any angel jealous. “You looked so peaceful… I almost didn’t want to interrupt.” ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ
You blink at him, all wide-eyed and cute, and he actually laughs softly, covering his mouth just a bit because he can’t handle how adorable you look.
“You make the sweetest expression when you’re lost in thought,” he adds, brushing his thumb lightly over your cheek.
Yes. He’s that soft.
── ⋆⋅☆ SOLOMON
You’re in Solomon’s room, which is always a gamble, because there’s a 50/50 chance something in there is sentient.
He’s mixing something in a cauldron (against all common sense), explaining how it’s “definitely safe this time.”
You’re listening… kind of. Until you’re not.
Your eyes drift over to a shiny crystal on his desk. Or maybe you’re just zoning out because the smell of his potion is… suspicious.
Either way, you’ve left your physical form.
Solomon notices immediately, the man has the observational skills of someone who’s survived his own cooking.
He grins. Oh, he lives for this.
“Oh, sweetheart?” he calls sweetly. Like theatrically.
No response.
He steps closer, amused out of his mind. Still nothing.
So, with absolutely zero hesitation, he reaches out and pinches your cheek.
Not roughly, just enough to snap you back to reality.
“There you are,” he chuckles, eyes sparkling like he just discovered a new spell. “You spaced out. Adorably, I might add.” (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
You blink at him, startled and cute, and Solomon actually tilts his head like he’s cataloging your expression for future mischief.
He brushes his thumb over your cheek. Soft, playful. And adds,
“I should distract you more often if it means I get to see that look again.”
You know he means it, too.
He’s already plotting 12 different magical excuses to make you zone out.
imagining solomon coaxes mc to be in/on/around his cloak as much as he can, so that when they’re not around, it still smells like them
his cloak serves as quite a comfort to him to begin with - a blanket-like cover that keeps him warm, secure and safe. not only that, but he knows it looks cool, he really leans into the whole sorcerer thing. he occasionally enjoys using the fabric’s movement for dramatic flare.
but when it smells like mc, solomon gets an extra surge of energy that he’s been missing all these years.
any excuse. ESPECIALLY in the winter
cold? come under my cloak
raining? hide under my cloak
too sunny? cloak shade
hand holding? under the cloak
sat in the park? cloak on the grass
hugging? you bet, under the cloak
that guy bothering you? IN THE CLOAK
at the beginning of knowing mc he’d often hide it and be very subtle when noticing the wall of scent flutter past him, a slight flush appearing over his face that he tried to hide from the brothers. but now, he doesn’t care.
sometimes if he’s stressed, mc would catch him at a desk in the library, head down as his face is buried in his arms lying on the table. seemingly asleep, but his cloak is pulled up just so that his face is resting on the soft fabric, his face nuzzled into the folds.
